Routine
by Sapsorrow86
Summary: Set at the beginning of Season 2, based on a personal head-canon that Belle practices yoga and that Rumplestiltskin keeps unconsciously going to where she's exercising to fetch something he desperately needs (the paper, a cup of tea, a trinket).
"Don't mind me, I'm just here for a cup of tea."

Belle turned her head to look at him, almost losing her balance in the process. Both her legs were extended wide, one of her arms stretched out to gently touch the mat while the other tried extend as much as possible toward the ceiling. It was a hot day in Maine, which meant the former noblewoman had picked the kitchen, bright and airy and always a bit cooler than the rest of the house, to do her daily yoga routine in. The shorts and the sport bra had taken some getting used to- it had been then that Rumplestiltskin had been able to prove his theory that Belle blushed all over- but she'd soon seen the benefits that less constricting clothing meant for exercising.

Yoga had been something she'd read about in one of the many magazines he'd provided for her in the days after her escape from the asylum, when it seemed impossible that she'd ever adapt to the new world she'd found herself in. She'd loved researching the practice, surprised at the spiritual depth of it. Eager to please her he'd procured her videos and equipment and soon she'd begun clumsily copying positions and trying to breathe without falling over.

Years of going about in voluminous dressed and constrictive corsets had given Belle a natural grace about her that she poured into her yoga, mastering the basics with relative ease. She had low muscle mass, her arms and legs almost completely devoid of strength and yoga was a gentle way for her to remedy that. It had been a struggle at first, however, which was why he'd taken to watching her like a hawk, ready to pounce the minute she fell over or in any way injured herself.

And though it soon became unnecessary, as Belle grew confident and sure in her daily routine, he still often ended up somewhere near where she practised, completely by accident. Though it was a large house he often found himself in need of something that was located exactly where Belle was practising. It was a statistically-significant amount of coincidences, he was sure, but he could find no particular reason for it.

"It's hot and you're wearing a three-piece suit. Won't the tea be a bit much?"

She changed position, bending her front leg and extending her raised arm to the front instead of upwards. He grunted in acknowledgement of her question, watching as tiny beads of sweat rolled over the soft-looking skin of Belle's back, coming to pool on her lower back. Every bit of exposed skin was glistening with perspiration, driving her point home.

"Now that you mention it is a tad hot, isn't it? I'll prepare us a pitcher of lemonade instead."

It took an inordinate amount of time to find all the proper ingredients for the drink, but the Dark One chalked it up to having bigger things on his mind at the moment, the problem with the town limit being a key one. As he'd come to expect Belle changed positions again, keeping her legs in their current position but turning her body to look to the front, arching her spine and extending her arms upwards as far as they'd go. He breathing grew laboured, her now visible face flushed and her eyes overly bright. He noticed she'd acquired a bit of colour from controlled exposure to the sun, a faint golden glow that made her look healthier than she had a few weeks ago.

All too quickly the lemonade was ready and other matters called his attention. Though freshly un-cursed life in Storybrooke continued very much like it had before, which meant he still needed to keep his accounting ledgers up do date and make sure rent was paid in full and on time. He was set to work when a casual patting of his jacket let him know his reading glasses were missing. Being a Dark One he didn't strictly need them, but they were a part of his routine and he felt more comfortable with them.

When he returned to the kitchen, convinced he must have left the glasses somewhere when he came for the tea, Belle had moved on to the Cat-cow position. She was in all fours, her spine curving downward at first and upwards a few seconds later, her breathing perfectly controlled. Her hair stuck to her face and the lycra of the shorts clung to her arse like a second skin, giving quite him quite a view. Belle said the pose helped with her stiff back, the result of long hours hunched over reading. His own back ached at times too so he paused to take a closer look at the exercise, trying to see if he could copy it later. Though Belle had put on much-needed weight in the weeks following their reunion she was still thin, but he was happy to see the re-emergence of familiar curves, prominently displayed by the position itself.

"Your glasses are on the isle, Rumple."

She looked at him with fond exasperation, and he had to concede that he had become quite forgetful around the house, misplacing items here and there.

"Thank you, sweetheart."

She threw him an indulgent smile, bright and beautiful and lifted herself slowly, extending her legs and arms while keeping her feet and hands firmly on the mat, head down. Her muscles strained under the movement, shaking, and Rumplestiltskin considered it prudent to stay a while, make sure she was not about to strain herself too much and topple to the ground. It was on the tip of his tongue to offer his help. It would be no trouble to position himself directly behind her, ready to snake an arm around her lower belly to support her if she felt she was getting too weak. Though she was drenched in sweat and would no doubt make a fuss about dirtying his clothing he'd pay her no mind, his hands happily splaying over her damp, dewy skin. Perspiration might be disgusting on other people but Belle made it look appealing. He was sure the salty taste of her skin would be quite pleasant paired up to the natural taste of her.

After a few minutes of awkwardly hanging about he reluctantly decided to go back to his books, glasses firmly in hand. The heat was getting to be a bit much around the house, making him shed his jacket and vest. It was hard to concentrate in numbers and figures, usually something that could absorb him quite thoroughly, but he kept at it diligently for fifteen minutes before realizing that he'd skipped breakfast and was feeling a bit peckish. No doubt it was that what kept him from immersing himself in the task so he stood up, limping into the kitchen once more. Belle was doing a new pose, one leg firmly planted on the ground and the other bending in the air, its foot connecting with the hand from the opposing arm, leaving the other extended for balance. She had a look of complete concentration on her face, her stance barely shifting at all, almost completely immobile. He paused to admire her, in awe of how far she'd come since she'd started practising yoga.

"New position?"

She nodded, making sure to keep her breathing slow and steady. Not wanting to break her concentration he started looking for something to snack on, settling after long minutes of debate on a peach, methodically peeling the fuzzy skin, removing the pit and cutting it into precise, even pieces.

"Mmm, that smells divine. Can I have some?"

Belle had moved to a more relaxed position, signifying her routine was nearing its end. She was down on the mat, one leg bent on the mat and the other bent over above it. Her upper body was twisted the other way, her arms locking the position in place. The ease with which she held the position spoke of her hard-earned flexibility and stamina. Trying not to look awkward in comparison he lowered himself onto the floor, getting comfortable before grabbing a slice of peach and carefully placing it into her mouth, his fingers brushing her plump lower lip. Belle moaned happily as she chewed. Peaches were a particular favourite of hers, and they were finally in season.

"Want another?"

The Dark One cleared his throat, wondering at the hoarseness of it. As an immortal sorcerer he was immune to sickness but his throat felt tight and dry at the moment, and his skin was clammy and too warm.

"Yes, please."

Belle had a knack for choosing fruit and the peaches were savoury and ripe. His sweetheart made a faint sound of upset when a bit of juice dribbled down her chin and after a second or two of fumbling for non-existent napkins he leaned forward, gently catching the sticky juice with his fingers.

"I'm sorry, I've made a mess."

Absent-mindedly he licked his fingers, noticing how well the taste of peach mingled with Belle's own salty-sweet taste.

"There's still some on my neck. Help?"

Belle tilted her chin up, baring her lovely white throat to him. The part of him that was more creature than man, predatory and almost savage, lingered in the gesture, taking pleasure in the vulnerability of it. Almost instinctively he leaned forward, slowly and methodically sliding the flat of his tongue against the offered skin, being careful to completely remove any traces of juice from it. When it was done Belle thanked him with a beaming smile and a small, teasing peck on his lips. Slowly and carefully she untangled herself, lying down and stretching as far as he limbs would go. He clumsily got up, shoving the remaining slices of peach into his mouth in an effort to satiate his suddenly-roaring hunger.

"I better get back to the accounts."

Finally finished with the routine Belle stood up shaking her body loose and grabbing a nearby bottle of water, draining half of it within minutes.

"Okay. I think I'm going to take a long shower. I'm still not over the decadence of it. Marvellous invention."

She reached out and kissed him softly on the lips once more before bounding up the stairs, arms already beginning to peel the sports bra off her sweaty body as he passed her on the way to his study. His fingers tightened around he handle of his cane and he noticed with distaste that the peach juice had dried off, leaving his palms a sticky mess. Turning around with a long-suffering sigh he began to climb the stairs, hoping that Belle wouldn't mind another interruption on her morning routine. Maybe he could make it up to her by washing her hair, though he would have to remove his shirt and pants in the process, to protect the fine clothing from getting wet.

... might as well shower with her, he supposed. The accounts would keep.


End file.
